Glimpses
by El loopy
Summary: Just lots of little drabbles for Amanda x Wickham. Set at various points of the show and some slightly AU.


**A/N Just lots of little drabbles for AmandaxWickham. Set at various points of the show and some slightly AU. They don't really follow on from each other.**

Profit

It was amazing how he just always managed to live so well when he had absolutely no money to speak of ever. He always joked that he was on the lookout for a rich wife – she was beginning to see what a bluff that was. He didn't care. Never had. He was a con artist. He could get what he wanted when he wanted it. What she couldn't understand was his insistence on helping her when there was no profit…

* * *

Not 'the thing'

Amanda ran her hands over the keys and pulled a face – she had no idea what she was doing. It hadn't been at all 'the thing' to learn piano when she were younger, though she would have dearly loved to, if only to touch Elizabeth's world that bit better. It would give her 'airs and graces' her mother said. She could really use those now though…

"You hit this one first," Wickham's voice floated from behind her as he appeared at her shoulder, deliberately brushing her arm with his fingers as he reached over and hit the key. His other hand rested on her shoulder as though to steady himself as he leaned over further and flashed a mischievous smile.

* * *

Shadow

This insistence on shadowing her was getting quite annoying.

"Go away," she whispered and flapped her hands at the mirror, trying to physically shoo off the niggling in the back of her head. A niggling by the name of Wickham. She was trying to chase back in the box the way her insides jumped when he spoke to her and the sudden wash of feelings that had broken loose at the knowledge that he had just been covering for Georgiana.

With one last glance at her reflection she returned to the ballroom.

* * *

Plague

"You are a plague Wickham!"

He bowed mockingly. "Thank you."

With an annoyed snort Amanda slammed her way out the room, leaving him standing staring after her.

"I want to always plague you Amanda," he whispered. "Your head and your heart until you acknowledge the truth."

* * *

Real

"You were always hiding the real you from me Wickham. Why?"

He looked at her with shadowed eyes and shrugged.

"Maybe the real me isn't worth seeing."

Amanda took a step forward and stopped again. "The brief glimpses I get don't appear that bad…"

A harsh laugh. "You should know Miss Price that nice guys finish last. Being the one upon whom you could rely didn't make a lot of difference except to push you further into another's arms."

* * *

Mistake

It had taken her this long. He had to listen to her hurt and heartbroken and so close to tears as she had poured out how that ungrateful man had been treating her. Confusing her, albeit unintentionally, and she had turned to him, Wickham, every time for advice and a shoulder to cry on. He had stood there and been her friend, her advisor, her helper and as he had done so he wondered how she could not see it. How she could be so oblivious for so long that she was after the wrong man?

He had all but given up. He had resigned her over to Darcy, though he did not deserve her. Having said that, Wickham thought, nor did he.

He had been about to retire when she had walked into the inn and stood a short distance away and he thought how crazy life was.

"I…I appear to have made a mistake," she muttered, and before she could continue he had her in his arms.

* * *

Imagination

She was probably just imagining the whole thing. She probably imagined the way his eyes followed her. Imagined the way he was determined to sabotage her and Collins. Imagined the way he helped her with no profit to himself. Imagined the way he gave her advice if it pertained to her happiness. She was probably imaging that he put himself out more for her than he ever had for anyone. She was probably imagining as they sheltered from the rain – and she wondered how she'd ended up alone with him – that he was looking at her intensely. As the drip of the rain sounded loud in her ears and he was standing close, she was probably imaging that he was moving nearer. She was definitely imagining what his lips would feel like, even as she was probably imagining that his eyes seemed curiously fixated on her mouth. When he kissed her, though, it was delightfully real.


End file.
